This is War
by X-enigma-X
Summary: Ron remembers. Ron tries to wash of the invisible blood of guilt off his hands


This is War  
  
I'm just a normal man  
  
I wouldn't hurt nothing at all  
  
but here we are.  
  
Regret. Regret at how my innocence had suddenly spiraled down into some distant oblivion. Regret at what we had all become in this reach for a better world. It's almost funny, how to accomplish peace, we must first issue war. Ironic.  
  
Our leaders have a plan  
  
I'd only kill if it's for them  
  
now here we are.  
  
I search into the depths of my mind. Searching, searching. For a time when there wasn't a constant darkness etched into our minds. For a time when fighting evil was an adventure. When we could laugh and make jokes about how smart Hermione was, to get passed Snape's master challenge of the mind while trying to rescue the philosophers stone, at the age of eleven.  
  
For a time when our troubles where so small, we thought all we had to do was run to Dumbledore and everything would be alright. He would fix it all.  
  
We soon learned that Dumbledore isn't invincible. Not at all. We soon learned how to speak those two words that we all loathed so much. How come we came to rely on it so? 'Cause we were the good, the good fighting against the evil. And we were saying those words to make the world a better place. Avada Kedavra. Who knew that speaking those two words, hell, even thinking those two words, could put such a dent in my conscience.  
  
But I keep telling myself that I was on the good side. I was saying those two words because we were right, and they were wrong.  
  
I drove in a car and flew in a plane  
  
to come to your house and kick your door in  
  
now it's down to this, it's just you and me  
  
I'll blow your fucking head off for my country  
  
So, keeping in mind that we were doing it for the better good of everyone, we marched on down to Hogsmeade, and faced our enemies.  
  
I remember the first life I took. Without a thought. I just sent that speed of green light into their heart, and they dropped the floor. Lifeless eyes, not a mark on their bodies to show how they died. But they died because of that mark on their left arm. Because that mark was etched into their soul.  
And they were wrong.  
  
I go to church in time  
  
I go to work in a suit and tie  
  
but this is war  
  
I'm really not sure why  
  
but the TV says that you are wrong  
  
now here we are  
  
There were headlines, and newspaper reports, of Death Eater massacres, killing off people because of their bloodline, or their beliefs. Why didn't they care that they were taking away these precious lives? That those children that lay so still in their cots could have made something of themselves, could have contributed to this world, if they weren't too dead to get there.  
  
Why do I constantly look at my hand in guilt, trying to wipe of this invisible blood of people that did no good to this world. Why do I care so much for their lives? The black smudge those people left on this world was not welcome. I did the world a favor getting rid of these people, didn't I?  
  
Yes, I did.  
  
I drove in a car and flew in a plane  
  
to come to your house and kick your door in  
  
now it's down to this, it's just you and me  
  
I'll blow your fucking head off for my country  
  
I was paying them back. For all the lives they took. All the innocent lives they took. So many names wiped away from this world forever because of those.those things. They are nothing more than things because they are killers. They kill in cold blood.  
  
So what does that make me? I keep thinking. I killed people. My conscience is not clear no more. Randomly I said those two words, the killing words,  
at those people that lived for everything I lived against.  
  
my feet hurt from the sand  
  
but still I march on gun in hand  
  
cause this is war  
  
this isn't what I planned  
  
I wanted to be so much more  
  
but this is war  
  
I took so many lives. So. Fucking. Many.  
  
And all for what? All the people I ever loved, all the people I used to live for, they're all gone.  
  
Ginny, trying to protect Harry. Foolish. I miss my little sister. My only sister. She who gave me so much advice, the smallest one. The most precious.  
  
Mum. Dad. Both fighting for us. For the Weasley's. Died for us.  
  
Percy, who hated being a nobody. Who tried to raise his status. So he lost himself in the darkness. Traitor. Azkaban for life.  
  
Bill. Part of the order. Captured and tortured for information he refused to give. He fought like a man. And died like one. I can't think of Bill for too long. It sends an unwelcome shiver up my spine, when I think about what he went through.  
  
Charlie. Another one bites the dust. Me and Harry have something in common, I guess. We can both hate Pettigrew for taking one of our loved ones.  
  
Fred. Same fate as the Longbottoms. George can't go on without him. Never ending days George spends in his bedroom, staring at the wall. Living in his memories of his beloved twin. Anyone would think he was a mute.  
  
Hermione. The side of my mouth twitches in her memory. And a single tear streaks down my face. Hermione. Smart, brilliant Hermione. My love. I keep thinking that even if I had just her left, everything would be alright. And I could live on.  
  
Harry. The Boy Who Lived. No more. Who knew the curse that sent Voldemort spiraling all the way to hell would banish Harry also. If we knew that would happen, no one would have let Harry carry out the damn curse. But he went with accomplishment in his eyes. He fulfilled his purpose. Poor Harry.  
  
And so I am left here. To reminisce about the past. Or to simply fall into my guilt. Forever trying to wash off this permanent invisible blood on my hands. Blood of the guilty.  
  
Why do I care so fucking much? That I am a killer. I helped the world right?  
  
And now maybe I can do myself a favor. No more reminiscing. No more guilt trips. No more confusing deep and meaningful mind conversations with myself. Where will I go? Will I see those I loved once more? Or will I go to hell for my sins?  
  
Wherever it is I go. It's got to be better than here, right? This cycle of muddled thoughts and self pity. Of self accusations. Of self hating. Of thinking about all those unanswered questions. Ones that can never be answered.  
  
I drove in a car and flew in a plane  
  
to come to your house and kick your door in  
  
now it's down to this, it's just you and me  
  
I'll blow your fucking head off for my country  
  
I looked at my hand. The hand that was absently twirling my wand around. Ha.  
  
The last of the Weasley's shall be no more. I raised the wand to my head, and said those dreaded two words for the last time.  
  
Avada Kedavra. 


End file.
